Set Me Aflame With Those Things You Say
by lovingcaptainswan
Summary: Killian Jones has a way with words. Captain Swan Oneshot. Vocab porn for Britt.


**Prompt written for notdonewithyou on tumblr (I'm lovingcaptainswan on tumblr as well).**

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><p>"<em>Ravishing<em>."

Emma's body arched into his tongue as he licked a warm, moist stripe just below her ribs, nibbling the flesh there lightly and dragging his lips higher.

"Absolutely _ravishing_."

Emma shivered. Her head was spinning. Every word, every touch - it was overwhelming and that accent had to be fucking _illegal_ (along with half the things she wanted to do to him, or_ with_ him, or _for_ him).

She'd never imagined being with him would be like this.

Passionate, yes. Satisfying, definitely. But never _this_ - so helplessly and desperately, for lack of better words, under his spell (and yes, she was aware of the irony of that particular phrasing).

Her sexual history had been composed primarily of a string of one night stands, hit it and quit it, get that rush, scratch that itch and then move on. The sex hadn't always been bad - she wasn't gonna lie, a few had been pretty damned amazing – but in general, the lifestyle often attracted people who were looking for the exact things that she was in a sex life, something quick, something easy, which in turn tended to lend to slightly more selfish and less than mindblowing lovers, but_ this_… She had never expected to be physically _adored_ by someone, but here he was, lips, fingers, tongue, all working together, barely touching but sending swirls of desire budding and building deep in her core. His stubble burned red trails along her pale skin and she had to bite back a gasp, to stop herself from writhing against him and giving too much away.

She _couldn't_. Not yet.

"_Gorgeous_," he crooned in a deep, sensual groan, placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of her right breast, his rough, calloused hand tracing up her side in featherlight touches to fondle the left - unwilling to let either go untended because he had but one hand. "_Sumptuous_." He sucked at her skin, pulling away with a sloppy _pop_. "Positively _decadent_."

His words were muffled as his mouth closed over a pert nipple, sucking again lightly, almost leisurely about it and she had no idea how he could have this much fucking patience. She pressed her chest into his mouth, needing more pressure, needing him to touch her, to go faster, to give her _more _but at the same time she wanted him to stay slow and reverent and thorough and to not stop talking, _never stop talking_.

"Gods, but you taste _sinful_, Swan," he mumbled, burying his nose between the valley of her breasts, kissing a trail between them before licking a line back upwards. "I want to taste every part of you."

"Oh god," she whispered, closing her eyes, giving herself over completely to his words (she always had been a sucker for British accents) his touch, his heat, the glorious weight of his body poised over hers.

She needed this. She needed _him_. It was amazing that she'd lasted this long without giving into the lingering temptation that had always hung around him like a cloud.

"You deserve to be worshiped," he told her, his right hand squeezing at her breast, firmer this time, teeth nipping at her collarbone enough to pinch, tongue immediately moving to lave and soothe and then repeating the action. "_Gods_, but I plan to worship you, Emma. To touch and taste every bloody part of you with every drop of veneration I possess."

He ground his hips into hers and she heard a soft "_fuck_," in her own voice come out in an embarrassing squeak and god, she just couldn't care if it meant he kept doing this to her. "_God_, who talks like that?" she moaned, her hand digging into his hair, her other hand clawed and dragging down his back slowly.

He chuckled into her neck, dipping his hips teasingly. "Does it please you?"

His hand slipped from her breast slowly back down her side as he placed kisses up the column of her throat, his fingers rubbing circles over her hip bone and then sliding underneath her to palm her ass. His own hips were pressed firmly against her so she could feel the thick outline of his cock and she arched again, grinding into it, rewarded when he moaned. _Fuck_, she loved that sound, breathy and desperate and _hot_. She couldn't remember the last time someone had sounded like that for her, so completely and utterly _wrecked_.

"Don't stop."

He grunted, kissing her neck with more vigor, hips rutting against her for a weak moment before he stilled abruptly.

"_Hook_." She said his name in a whimper, rocking her body upwards, letting her knees fall apart on either side of him, needing the friction back, even through her panties.

It was just too damned much. He was going too slowly. It was overwhelming, every nerve sparking, stimulated but not nearly enough. It was driving her insane. Heat pooled between her legs, want and pleasure building inside of her, _aching _to be touched, but he was intent on dragging this out and she hated and loved it all at once.

"Yes, Sweetheart, let me hear you," he murmured, kissing the spot behind her ear, sending a chill down her spine. He rocked forward gently, testing her, testing himself, his hand gripping her ass tighter as he thrust against her experimentally. His mouth finally met hers again, kissing her long and slow, drawing the kiss out like he was the foreplay, taking the time to thoroughly taste every bit of her mouth, tongue delving into her like he couldn't get deep enough. "You've no idea how often I've thought of this," he said, pulling away from the kiss and groaned as he worked his way back down her neck. "Imagining your moans, your breasts, your taste… left hard and wanting, with no comfort but my own hand."

"Let me help you out then," she whispered into his ear, her lips pulling into a seductive smile. Her hand slipped between them, his body lifting slightly to accommodate her as she rubbed his hard cock through his leather in long, firm strokes, squeezing and then relaxing, sliding her hand up and then gradually down, swallowing his groans in bottomless, wet kisses until he whimpered, a sharp, broken sound, burying his face into her shoulder.

"_Emma_."

His _voice_. She never thought that someone's voice could turn her on like this. She rubbed him harder, wanting more, wanting to make him feel like he was making her feel and she must have succeeded because a moment later his teeth sunk deeply into her bare shoulder, almost too deeply, pleasure and pain shooting through her, making her gasp and grit her teeth. He growled, his teeth still clamped down firmly, his breath shuddering. She knew she should stop. It wasn't what he had wanted. He'd wanted to be in control but Emma was never the type to just sit and take anything – even if it felt _this fucking good._ She ignored the warning voices in her head and stroked him again, enjoying that he was as hard as a rock, straining against his leather, and then his teeth were replaced with his face buried into her shoulder again, attempting to press his body into her hand, pinning it between them so she no longer had room to move and she realized that he was actually _close_.

Emma stopped and he lifted his head, meeting her eyes, pained. He bit his lip, averting his eyes and he actually looked embarrassed. "It's been… some time," he finished, and then he was rearing back as if he hadn't said anything at all, the explanation enough as he pulled back to look at her – flushed, eyes dark with lust, sucking in quick and heavy breaths; he watched her through his own, dark, hooded eyes. "I want to take care of _you_, love."

She was actually surprised. Emma had been with the occasional one nighter who'd had too much to drink and went off before she was even that worked up – some apologized, genuinely embarrassed, while others didn't seem to notice (or care) – but he was so sincere, so focused on making this good for her.

She couldn't find the will to argue, melting back into the bed, into _him_. And then he was lowering himself between her legs, drawing her panties down with fingers and teeth alike, pulling them low enough until she could kick them off her toes.

He gasped softly at the sight of her, his eyes dragging searing paths up and down her naked body and with anyone else she'd feel embarrassed, pull them back down and just get it over with, but she didn't want it over with – she wanted _him_ to look.

"What?"

"Do you have any idea how irresistibly enticing you are to me, Emma?" He fell forward onto his hands and knees, crawling over her body, dropping kisses on her hip, the tensed muscles of her stomach, her ribs. "So beautiful."

Emma sighed, closing her eyes and scrunching them closed tight, half expecting to awake from this dream.

No one said this stuff to her. _No one_. Sure, guys had called her beautiful, and sure they had probably meant it at the time, but not like this, _never _the way he said it. She _believed him_ when he said it, and why was he still going so slowly?

She took the initiative, hands falling back to his pants, undoing them before he had the chance to complain. "These need to be off."

"Emma, wait-"

"No," she sighed impatiently, "I need you," she gasped out, bucking her hips and continuing to tug at his pants. "Fuck, Hook, I need you _now_. No more teasing."

She gripped his length, squeezing and he made a noise resembling a squeak that she'd be tempted to tease him about later, but she wouldn't. "Emma, please. I can't-"

"There will be other times," she promised, ignoring the voices that told her to stop talking, to stop making promises to him and _thinking _worse ones. Instead, she continued to guide him closer, lifting her hips and urging him on, and with a slump of his shoulders and a shuddering sigh that sent trembles of anticipation down her spine, he gave into her - he always gave into her.

He slid into her with a groan and she felt complete. Slow. Smooth. Easing his way into her until he was buried as far as he could go.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he moaned, drawing his hips back so gently she almost yanked him forward. Suddenly, he thrust forward with a broken cry. "Bloody. Fucking. Brilliant." He enunciated each word with a thrust that sent stars before her eyes.

"Run out of those fancy words, pirate?" she whimpered, arching, trying not to move too quickly but needing more, pulling him impossibly deeper, she wanted _so_ much more. "_Killian_."

The name left her lips and she swore they both noticed it at the same time from the way that they stiffened simultaneously. It was dangerous. It was too much, but it wasn't enough either. She wanted to give him more, she wanted to show him how much he meant to her – _fuck_, he _meant_ something to her.

Hook cursed raggedly and she felt his hot, damp breath on her ear, his teeth scraping over her earlobe. He only stilled for a moment and then, as if making a decision, he pushed into her again, deep, rough, needy, a growl dragging itself from his throat. She could feel him shaking as he nuzzled his nose into her hair, breathing her in and then thrusting again. "Your cunt is so bloody _wet_."

She jolted, moaning at his words. _God damn_, _Hook. _

Emma appreciated a little dirty talk as much as the next girl. Sometimes it was just what she needed to get her going, and though the "c word" had never really been her cup of tea, the way _he _said it - she could see herself getting used to it.

They settled into a jagged sort of rhythm, both of them unpracticed (lately, at least), but getting there, gradually finding a tempo that worked for them. She dragged her fingers down his back and kissed wherever she could reach him, his shoulders, his neck – sucking and nipping there, not caring if it left a mark – just wanting to touch and feel and drown in this – whatever _this_ was.

"Never enough," he grunted. "I could never be good enough for this insatiable body of yours, Swan."

His nails dug into her hip hard enough to hurt and his thrusts became increasingly erratic but he was holding himself back, struggling with every breath to get her where he wanted her. And it was working, _god, it was working_. His cock stretching her with every thrust, hitting that spot inside of her, that spot that was deep enough, hard enough to hurt just a little, the combination of dull pain mixed with sharp rushes of pleasure almost sending her over that glistening edge that she was nearing with every gulp of air.

"Touch yourself for me, Darling."

It wasn't a suggestion. Emma hurriedly pushed her hand between them, fingers mashed against her clit, not so much moving (there really wasn't a lot of room for that) as letting his thrusts rub them against her. She was close, so close.

"Oh god, oh god."

He grunted into her neck, using every bit of his strength and control to move faster, rolling and rocking his hips in a dizzying pattern. "That's it," he whispered. "That's a good girl," he growled, pressing his forehead to her chest and drawing a nipple into his mouth.

That was it.

Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, chest heaving like he'd knocked the wind out of her as she struggled for breath, struggled to keep moving and fighting the desire to just sink into the bed and let him fuck her through it with a chorus of _oh god's_ and whispers of his name, over and over and over again.

She was dimly aware of his body stiffening, opening her eyes just in time to see his jaw go slack and his face twist into that deliciously pained expression as he cried out, the sound coming out long and slow, his body tightening like a coil as he came. She could see his orgasm hitting him in waves, his fingers increasing their grip on her hip to bruising and his mouth closing so he could bite at his lip, sucking it into his mouth. She feel herself pulsing around him as she came down from the high of her release, felt him pulsing into her, and finally, she let her head hit the pillow and closed her eyes, his body wearily following, landing on top of her and she hoped he wouldn't move – right now, his weight on top of her felt like the best thing in the world.

"You're _perfect_."

She heard him say it in a breathy sigh, and she curved her lips into a soft smile, rubbing her hand in soothing circles on his back.

He'd called her so many things - r_avishing, sumptuous, beautiful_ - but somehow that simple, honest word entirely untrue yet so sincerely truthful in his eyes was better than all the others combined.

No one had ever called her that before and meant it.

"Yeah," she whispered, still smiling into the warmth of his shoulder. "You're not so bad yourself."

She was no Shakespeare, but it was a start.

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><p><strong>Like it? Hate it? Review? I hope you liked it though... ;)<strong>


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